


a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last

by calciseptine



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Domestic, M/M, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/564928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calciseptine/pseuds/calciseptine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living with Q is not as difficult as James initially thought it might be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [faorism](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faorism/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [最后一支烟](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2433299) by [Go_MrCactus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_MrCactus/pseuds/Go_MrCactus)



> I had a prompt submission on tumblr, and faorism asked for: _007 hasn’t bothered to get a place in London after they sold his, and Q offers him a bed. (He meant the one in the second room, but sharing his own wasn’t too bad a plan either…)_
> 
>  
> 
> But seriously, this pairing.
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is also available [in Chinese](http://mtslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=104087) thanks to the wonderful [Go_MrCactus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Go_MrCactus/pseuds/Go_MrCactus)!

The madness begins with an innocuous, "I hear you're in the market for a new flat."

James has been in the business long enough to be unsurprised by Q's knowledge. He is surprised, however, when Q offers up his spare bedroom.

"My salary is quite large," Q prattles over the rim of his tea cup. "I invested in a flat with a nice view and elderly neighbors, but at the time of my purchase it did not occur to me how lonely such a place could be. You won't be unwelcome."

Perhaps it's the offhanded and nonchalant way the younger man offers the space; maybe it's because James is tired of his extended stay at the hotel; or maybe it's because James knows what it's like to be alone, but he finds himself accepting.

"Excellent," Q murmurs.

.

Q's flat is not far from the old SIS building.

"I do not have a license, you see, and had a desire to be within walking distance." Q's lips purse, a pretty pinch that James has soothed on many mouths. "Of course, our new location demands that I take the tube, but we all must make sacrifices for the sake of our country."

Living with Q is not as difficult as James initially thought it might be. He has never shared a living space with someone for more than a few weeks—even those engagements had been with a woman he was seeing—and he's heard that cohabitation can be brutal for dissimilar minds.

The flat is one of three on the top floor of a five story complex. The bottom level is a coffee shop that Q frequents for cranberry-orange scones and, as promised, the neighbors are elderly and quiet. Occasionally, James will run into one of them on the lift; they greet him with a polite smile, make small talk about the weather, and when James has been living with Q for over a month, one woman asks, "How is your fine young man?"

"As he always is," James replies, and does not bother to correct the old woman's assumption.

.

Q has a cat named Archibald. He's pale gray and quite large; James suspects that he might have been an excellent mouser, if he had been born in the countryside rather than the city. He spends most of his day watching the street traffic from his perch on the windowsill and most of his nights on couch. Archibald takes to James in the condescending and aloof manner that cats have, in the way he has never taken to Q.

"I do believe your animal magnetism has taken on a more literal meaning," Q comments one night. They're sitting at opposite ends of the couch. Q is bent over his laptop, as per usual, and James has one eye on the news. There's a finger of bourbon in his glass and Archibald is sprawled atop his thighs, purring like a semi-automatic and getting hair all over James' pressed slacks.

"Jealousy is an unattractive trait, Q," murmurs James.

The response is off-handed and hardly deserves the sudden attention Q gives it. James looks up from the gentle, contented sway of Archibald's tail to the younger man's face, surprised to see the downturn of his mouth and the straight set of his eyebrows.

"007," he says, his voice as clear as a note. "Whatever makes you think I want to sit in your lap?"

.

A month turns into two, two turns into four, and with every passing day, James' quest to find himself a new abode dwindles. Truth is, Q's flat is more of a home to him than any other place has ever been: more than Skyfall and more than any place he's paid a steady rent. In fact, Q's flat is the only place James has ever missed while halfway across the world.

He's in Kabul and is in the middle of an assignment. It isn't his first mission to the desert—nor will it be his last—but he has yet to figure out how he gets sand in every conceivable crevice. As he climbs into the low-pressure shower, to wash away the evidence of murder and heat, he finds himself yearning for the shower in Q's flat. The simple admission of want snowballs into an avalanche and he presses himself against the old tile as he grits his teeth against the internal longing.

James likes to believe he's a simple man. Beneath his fine suit and love of expensive scotch, he is a man devoted to his country. He will do anything in his power to protect Britain; he is willing to get his hands dirty, if it means keeping his homeland safe. More than his quick thinking, more than his brute strength, and more than his charm, his unwavering devotion is his greatest asset.

Now when James thinks of home, he does not think of an island on a map, or of an old stone mansion in the highlands. He thinks of the flat, with its high windows, ornate coving, and wooden floors; he thinks of Archibald butting against his calves as he makes coffee after his morning run; and he thinks of Q.

If James were a different man, he would run from his revelation. He has had lovers in the past—one-night stands and brief, bright-burning romances—but he has always known that no one would keep him for long. This is the life he has chosen and he has never regretted it.

He still doesn't.

Perhaps it is because M's death has taught him what his own "death" could not; perhaps it is because he knows that one day he will be killed in action; or perhaps it is because he always takes what he wants, but James makes a decision as he stands beneath the dingy spray, as sand and sweat and blood swirl about his feet:

He will do anything to go home.

.

His plane lands in London Heathrow Airport at two in the morning. His exhausted body feels as though it were made of rubber, but his brain is on high-alert, as active as it would be during a life-or-death fight. His leg bounces up and down on his heel the entire cab ride home and, instead of waiting for the lift, he takes the stairs up to the flat two at a time. He knows that his mad scramble is uncharacteristic, but he is unable to stop himself as he bursts in through the unlocked door, blood roaring in his ears.

Q is curled on the couch in his usual corner, bundled in an oversized sweater and worn flannel bottoms. He has his laptop open and the news is playing softly in the background. There is nothing about the scene that should make James' heart skip, but the traitorous thing jumps nonetheless.

"007," Q says with a wry twist of his mouth. "I expected you sooner."

With a calm he does not feel, James closes the door behind him. He toes out of his shoes, sets his small carry-on atop the dining room table, and shrugs out of his suit coat. His cufflinks hit the wooden floor audibly; his tie and his shirt barely make a whisper. By the time he reaches Q and leans over the younger man, all that remains are his unbuttoned trousers hanging precariously about his hips.

"My apologies," James murmurs as he leans forward. One of his hands find the mess of Q's thick hair; Q leans into the touch as easily as James had given it. "I hope you didn't have to wait long."

Q's tongue flickers over the swell of his bottom lip before he replies, "If I said that I did, would you repay me for my patience?"

"Indubitably."

"Well then," Q says. "I think I've been patient enough."

.

Eventually, James moves out of the spare bedroom. He empties all the drawers, removes his suits and polished shoes from the closet, and makes sure that he has every weapon he's hidden are found.

"The end of an era," Q proclaims as they stand in the doorway and survey the barren space. Then with a sly smile as he wraps his long, clever fingers around James' tie, "Would you like to open a bottle of champagne? I believe it customary to celebrate these sorts of things."

"Perhaps later," James replies. "I had another celebration in mind."

It isn't his best line, but the innuendo serves its purpose, and Q bursts into surprised laughter. His laughter only stops when James presses him into their wide bed, in the room that they now share, and covers his mouth with his own.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last by calciseptine](https://archiveofourown.org/works/844544) by [fire_juggler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fire_juggler/pseuds/fire_juggler)




End file.
